Chapter 40: Are Heroes Allowed to Quit?
Dusk settled over the flower garden behind the arena's lodging quarters, staining the old maple trees blood-red.
The evening breeze drifted through the wildflowers, rocking an old wooden swing that creaked steadily in the empty air.
Astra sat alone on the swing, legs dangling and swaying beneath her. She still wore the rough grey cloth patched at both elbows, and on her lap sat the other half of her sweet potato from earlier, gone cold now. Her ash-grey eyes stared out toward the burning horizon, where the clouds were slowly deepening into the purple of nightfall.
Lucian's footsteps crunched over dry, brittle leaves behind her.
Astra turned her head, saw the ten-year-old in his grey cloak, and broke into a guileless smile.
"Lucian. You out here for some air too?"
Lucian didn't answer. He walked to the stone bench across from the swing and sat down without hurry, pulling a bottle of purple ink, a quill, and a crisp, ruled sheet of white parchment out of his spatial ring.
He set the sheet on the stone table, looked at the sixteen-year-old swaying on the swing, and spoke in an even voice.
"That half potato from earlier — was it good?"
Astra blinked and nodded honestly. "Really good. Sweet and filling."
"So is being a hero fun?"
The smile on Astra's face faltered for a moment. She tilted her head, as if no one had ever asked her something so strange, then answered on pure instinct, worn into her over sixteen years.
"Being a hero isn't about fun or not fun. It's my destiny. I was born to carry the safety of humanity."
"I didn't ask about your destiny," Lucian leaned back against the stone bench, his tone as sharp as an auditor tracking down a financial hole. "I asked if you LIKE being a hero. Training every day until your muscles tear, eating cold roasted sweet potatoes, wearing rags, ready to die in place of people sitting comfortably in warm council chambers... do you like that life?"
Astra went quiet.
Her calloused hands tightened around the rusted swing chain. She wanted to say "Yes," but her throat closed up. For sixteen years, ever since she'd been an orphaned child crawling out of the woods, the High Priests had taught her only how to pray, how to endure the lash, and how to smile while accepting sacrifice. No one in this world had ever stopped to ask whether she... liked any of it.
"Do they pay you?" Lucian pressed.
Astra shook her head. "Serving the gods doesn't require payment..."
"If you lost an arm, would they pay for the treatment? Support you afterward?"
"I... I don't know."
"Then this isn't destiny," Lucian picked up the quill and slid the parchment toward her. "This is illegal labor exploitation."
Astra looked down at the sheet. At the top, written in both the Imperial tongue and Old Elvish, was a bold header:
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'PETITION TO TERMINATE SERVITUDE OBLIGATION & REVOKE DIVINELY CHOSEN STATUS.'
Below it, Lucian had already drafted the full body of the document with proper legal grounds:
- Petitioner: Astra (Bearer of the Sacred Bloodline).
- Respondent: The Supreme Council of the Solaris Holy Church.
- Grounds for termination: Per Clause 84-B of the Ancient Covenant — hostile work environment, exploitative extraction of 99.999994% of output, sixteen years of unpaid wages, absence of insurance or any path for advancement.
Astra stared at the quill, trembling. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs it felt ready to leap out.
"If... if I sign this, will I stop being a Hero? Will the gods curse me? Will I become a traitor...?"
"You're not betraying anyone." Lucian tapped the contract. "You're declining an unpaid job. If you still want to help people afterward, that's your decision."
He pushed the quill a little closer.
"If you want out, sign."
Astra drew a deep breath, her chest heaving. Her eyes stung. She blinked hard, but a tear still slipped free.
Trembling, she reached out her calloused hand and took hold of the quill.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't picking up a pen to copy scripture praising sacrifice. She was picking it up to write her own name — with no "Divinely Chosen" attached, no "Savior" title tacked on.
Astra.
The final stroke of ink had barely dried.
CRACK!
A sound like splitting ice rang out from Astra's right wrist.
An invisible ring of silvery light — the magical chain that had bound her mana channels since the day she was born — split open into a thousand razor-thin fractures, then burst into a shower of glittering dust that scattered into the dusk air.
BOOM!
The ground beneath the swing sank half a centimeter. A pure, raging surge of mana — like a flood breaking loose from the depths of her spine — erupted out of Astra, sweeping across the entire garden and sending thousands of maple petals whirling into the sky.
Ting! Ting! Ting!
A dim black notification window from the System v2.0 burst into view in front of Lucian:
[CLAUSE 84-B OF THE ANCIENT COVENANT SUCCESSFULLY INVOKED.]
[SEVENTH SEAL: FULLY SHATTERED!]
[Energy release ratio: 0.000006% → 0.0001% (APPROX. ×16.7)!]
ASTRA
Level: 31 → 35
Rank: D — Elite (approaching Rank C — Monster)
Physical Strength: 42,110 → 421,100 (×10)
Speed: 51,200 → 512,000 (×10)
Endurance: 68,440 → 684,400 (×10)
Mana: 88,000 → 880,000 (×10)
OVERALL COMBAT POWER: 411,892 → 3,840,110 (3.8 MILLION!)
Three million eight hundred thousand.
With only the outermost, most decayed layer of the seal broken, the sixteen-year-old's Combat Power had jumped nearly tenfold — enough to steamroll every Rank D swordsman in the tournament outright.
Astra stared, stunned, at her own hands.
She could feel warmth she'd never known coursing through her blood. Her chest felt weightless, as if a mountain that had been pressing on her heart for sixteen years had suddenly been lifted away. She could hear the wind more clearly, see the glittering motes of dust in the air more clearly, and — most importantly — the scratch on her pinky finger sealed itself shut in three seconds flat.
She lifted her head and looked at the ten-year-old boy carefully blowing the ink dry on the parchment, her eyes wide with stunned disbelief.
"Lucian... are you... are you a messenger sent by the gods to free me from this trial of suffering?"
Lucian tucked the signed resignation letter into his spatial ring, brushed the dust off his sleeve, and stood, answering without missing a beat.
"No. I'm your legal representative and labor law consultant. Finish your potato and go get ready for your next match."
With that, he turned and walked off, leaving Astra sitting on the swing, cradling the warm half potato in both hands, still staring at the broken seal as a small, uncertain smile spread across her face.
At the same moment, three thousand meters north of the garden.
At the Central Cathedral of the Solaris Holy Church.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A thousand-year-old bronze bell mounted atop the tallest bell tower — one that only rang for wars of extinction — suddenly began tolling on its own, an ear-splitting alarm.
Every sensing crystal embedded throughout the great hall turned blood-red in unison.
The Cardinal, mid-prayer, jerked upright in shock. His crown fell from his head and shattered in two on the floor. He stared, wide-eyed, at the fractured beam of light on the altar and screamed in absolute terror, his voice shaking.
"Red alert! Someone... someone just tore apart the Seventh Seal on the Holy Maiden!"